


Skillful, Mud

by BlackMajjicDuchess



Series: Namesake [15]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Art, Dark Magic, Demonic Possession, Demons, Exile, Freedom, Gen, Helplessness, Inspiration, Isolation, Magic, Mental Anguish, Mud, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 22:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1444786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackMajjicDuchess/pseuds/BlackMajjicDuchess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I got the idea in my head one day to bring some of the Naruto characters face-to-face with the thing they were named after for the first time. I thought it might be fun. Also accepting challenges!</p><p>Stories will be posted separately but as part of the Namesake series.</p><p>Part 15: Skillful, Mud</p><p>Deidara is tormented by the need to create, a sensation he has yet to understand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skillful, Mud

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skywinder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skywinder/gifts).



> To issue a challenge, just comment on one of the stories in the series with the name you'd like to see done. The only stipulation is that it HAS to be a name that has a meaning, and it has to be a meaning that is something one can encounter. Example: Madara means "spots." What the heck am I supposed to do with that? On the other hand, Naruto's name refers to some kind of fish cake, which is something he could confront somehow.
> 
> Deidara challenge from Ishimaru_Asuka
> 
> Dei = Ingenius or Skillful  
> Dara = Mud
> 
> NOTE: The translators all seem to disagree. I went with the one I thought was most likely.

Deidara was a boy possessed. At least, that was the only logical conclusion that he could draw.

It started as an awareness, like the blossoming of a tiny flower bud planted in his heart. As it began to stir, testing its wings for the first time, reaching unused fingers outward like an embryo in the womb, he thought it might be a beautiful thing. He nurtured the feeling. It gave him hope and brought him joy. It made him feel special. And when it awakened, blooming outward like the purest rose, he nearly wept for its glory. And then it grew, fueled by some unknown source, and Deidara worried. As the awareness within him coalesced  into more of a presence, like its own sentient being, his wonderment was replaced with a burgeoning, spiraling horror.

The sensation grew larger and greater with each passing day, and Deidara was convinced that it must be evil. There was an insatiable beast hiding deep in his soul, crying for an outlet. It was a lustful energy, a deep well of power that promised either ecstasy or total annihilation… and no matter what he did to try to curb the swelling tide, it would tip one way or another, and he’d never know whether he was fated to experience ecstasy or annihilation until he was overwhelmed by its momentum. It raged like an inferno within, consuming his life, his soul, his heart, and his attention. There was nothing in the world that could fill it up, and so it burned on, starving for a thing that he, frustratingly, could not seem to provide.

It started when he was young, and continued to haunt him even now. It made him antsy, agitated, for it was a demon that would not let go of his mind, harnessing his thoughts and flaying them with its malevolent glare. It sank deep, sharp fangs into his life and held on, refusing to let him go. As time wore on and he grew into adolescence, threatening to forge onward into adulthood, he began to fear it. With such an insatiable creature hiding in the depths of his soul, no one was safe.

Least of all him.

He retreated from the public eye, closeting himself inside his home, not daring to be move among his fellow civilians. _I shouldn’t be around people_ , he told himself. _There’s something wrong with me… it isn’t safe._ He considered getting medical attention to root out the problem, but the thought of submitting his private fears to a stranger abhorred him. It was personal… he would deal with it himself. He just had to figure out what it was, that was all. It was during this period of isolation that he realized that it was not just one something, it was several. Deep within the recesses of his body lurked a churning horde of demonspawn, champing at the bit, gnashing teeth and creating a sensation that was so foul that Deidara began to fear himself.

In time, he began to catch glimpses of their faces, and terror gripped him so hard that he couldn’t sleep at night. They taunted him, or at least he thought that they did. He felt their madness welling up inside him, roaring like so many dragons, preventing him from finding any kind of peace, solace, or relaxation. They beat at the inside of his chest like crazed hellions trapped within his cage bones, screaming for release and eating him from the inside out like starving fiends. He lay awake weeping, unsure if he’d ever make it out of his private hell alive or if he’d just die here and be glad of it.

It was on one such occasion that someone burst into his life like a ray of light in the unwanted darkness, breaking through his self-imposed exile and dragging him out into the sun. He blinked, confused, having been ripped from a deep, dark pit of despair and suddenly thrust into a world that, in his opinion, he did not belong. He dared not speak, and he couldn’t see yet who it was that had done this to him. All he knew was its disembodied voice as it growled at him: “Deidara. Place this in your hands.” Awestruck, feeling as if perhaps one of the gods had come to save him at last, he held his hands open, palms up.

A shapeless lump of damp earth fell upon them. It sent shivers rippling through his body. Instantly, the monsters that lived within him rose up, stronger than ever. They screamed, raged, roiled, twisting violently within him, making him sick. If he held them back any longer, he’d burst at the seams and they’d come pouring out to wreak their havoc upon the earth. And so, with a whimper, he gave up, and he let go.

And then the most amazing thing happened. The brutes surged forth to claim their prize. They coursed through his lean arms, breaking free of his body through split palms and into the shapeless lumps in his hands like a violent, vicious, searing explosion. His body became a conduit for the relentless energy storm inside, and his hands moved of their own free will, possessed by a magic that he could never begin understand. Eyes transfixed upon the mass he held, he watched with fascination as his possessed hands crafted the likeness of the creatures he had seen inside himself. When he was finished, one of their foul brethren stared back at him, born from the mud he had been given. The demons that had plagued him for so long recoiled peacefully and thrummed with approval. The foul tigers that had surged through his palms retreated as snuggly, purring kittens. Mentally, he stroked their impish little heads, feeling a sense of wonderment once again, as he had when they'd first awakened inside of him.

"You are as good as I thought, Deidara," said the voice. "Now we will see what you can really do. Come." He'd followed the man away from his dark prison and into the world of explosions and lights. He replaced the shapeless mud with clay and let his bursting, unquenchable imagination run wild. Each and every time he pressed his hands to the lifeless substance, his inspiration goblins did their work.

But he never forgot that feeling, the first time, when the pent up need to create had nearly eaten him alive. Eventually, there would come a day when the ability to blow up buildings blended into his insatiable urge to release that imagination. The driving need to feel that explosive release of creative energy would lead him to becoming the most wondrous artist that the world had ever seen. Fine art was the beauty of that single fleeting moment of explosion. He would dedicate his life to creating that most perfect moment, each one more brilliant and blissful than the last.


End file.
